


Amarantha

by IonicPaladin



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Other, Pre-A Court of Thorns and Roses, The Court of Nightmares (ACoTaR)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 14:07:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14594658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IonicPaladin/pseuds/IonicPaladin
Summary: Amarantha hated the fact that Hybern had been forced to make that weak alliance. Prologue to A Court of Sand and Secrets (Oblivion)





	Amarantha

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place at the same time as A Court of Thorns and Roses and serves as a Prologue to my chapter fic A Court of Sand and Secrets (Oblivion) located on my page. I hope you enjoy.

Amarantha paused at the foot of her own throne, her eyes narrowed into slits as she took in the Fae that dared act _coy_ while lounging in the Amarantha’s rightful place. They even went so far as to cross a leg over the other, as if they weren’t playing with death itself, as if Amarantha did not scare them.

The Lady of the Mountain held back a growl. “What do you want.” It was supposed to be a question, but it came out as an order. Amarantha did not care if the beautiful female on her throne would find that an insult, not when she was getting her filthy hands all over her prized possession.

Long manicured nails tapped at the handle of the throne, the color as black as the deepest shadows under the mountain. Amarantha would have appreciated its glimmer where it not for who those hands belonged to. “This is a nice place,” came the voice, lovely and unassuming, as if speaking of the weather. A shadow of a smile, “although I wouldn’t have chosen such an uncomfortable back for where I would seat.”

Amarantha kept rechecking her shields, reinforcing like her life depended on it, which it did. Considering she was standing in front of a daemati whose power rivaled that of her favorite pet. But unlike Rhysand, this female was not leashed and chained to her, and as much as Amarantha wanted to, she never would be.

“Get off my throne,” the red-haired general spat.

A blink of near-violet eyes framed by such perfect eyelashes, Amarantha briefly wondered if they were faux. The resemblance hit her like a brick, and the Queen knew she would never get used to it. “You call yourself High Queen, don’t you?” A slim hand was moved to rest under a tan chin, that ridiculous not-quite-a-smile still on the female’s face.

“What does Kawan want?” Amarantha hated saying the name, hated the fact that she couldn’t rip the girl to pieces.

“You think I am here by orders of Kawan?” Amarantha glowered at the clear amusement.

The Thirteen did not follow a set hierarchy, Amarantha knew that, but the former Autumn Court male-Kawan-usually acted as a provisionary representative for the others. He had always been the one to speak when it came to the terms of the contract that was formed by Hybern and Oblivion centuries before. It was a humiliation and a disgrace, to allow that territory to the south of the island to thrive and prosper apart from the rest of Hybern, to be forced to form _relations_ with it-peaceful ones at that. It was one of the reasons the King of Hybern wanted to take over Prythian, to return to the old ways and wipe Oblivion off the map along with everyone in it.

The Courts were not aware of its existence, only because Hybern and Oblivion itself kept it under wraps. Amarantha was fine to pretend the area did not exist. She thought it a show of weakness, to admit that Hybern did not have the power to keep its territory under one ruler, less of all to a bunch of misfits who decided to create their own country on a whim so ridiculous as to find “peace for all outside the Courts.” Pathetic really.

If it had been any other territory Amarantha herself would have led the assault to conquer. But Oblivion had Fae who rivaled Hybern generals, who rivaled High Lords and the irony that they searched for peace while possessing Fae strong enough to change the tides of wars was not lost on her.

“Why are you here then,” Amarantha held back the obliged ‘girl’ at the end, if only because she wasn’t sure she’d get out alive if she fought one-on-one with The Thirteen’s second.

The female tilted her head, loose hair so dark it glimmered against the torchlights falling alluringly over one shoulder. “Has it already been fifty years?” It was a question that did not require an answer and Amarantha merely scowled as the female tapped her chin in thought. “I heard you had a human girl in your dungeons.”

So Oblivion knew about Tamlin’s little human lover, about the possibility the curse could be broken. Amarantha was not surprised. “That is correct,” she answered with a sneer, “I don’t suppose you’re here to offer your support to her in the coming Trials.” Trials the girl would surely die in, Amarantha had no doubts about that.

A lazy wave of a hand, a clear dismissal, and the Queen had to hold back from snarling and ordering for the female’s head.

“I am a reminder.”

The statement rang clear across the room like thunder in a storm. Yes, Amarantha thought, a reminder that Oblivion’s Thirteen were watching, that the territory was well aware of the game that was being played. That a change in leadership within Prythian would not change the accords that were drawn up a few decades after the war.

A reminder that war would come if their little piece of paradise was ever threatened. And although Oblivion’s population was only the size of a Court, every single able-bodied Fae was trained to fight and defend, each legion under one of the powerful thirteen members that ruled over the area. And that was a battle the King of Hybern did not want to have before he took Prythian. Before Amarantha made herself the permanent ruler of it all.

So the High Queen of Prythian had to play nice to this female, for now.

“The accords were drawn in blood,” Amarantha finally said, “you have nothing to worry about.”

A slow nod, again with that infuriating amused undertone that made Amarantha want to claw her way into the female’s body and tear out her intestines while she was still alive just to bathe in her screams.

One second the intruder was still on the throne, casually leaning back against it. The next she was in front of Amarantha, the face too similar, too beautiful to take in at once even when she still kept a distance of a few feet. “Careful,” she purred as she stepped forward. “You’ve grown bold with your thoughts, Amarantha.”

The mentioned one paused, her hesitation hidden behind a mask of thick indifference as her mind raced.

It was impossible that she could see her thoughts-

Impossible that she could tell-

“I don’t need to get into your head to know your thoughts,” the voice was steel and darkness, “you’ve always been predictable.”

That was enough. Amarantha was not going to be bested in her own domain. “Crawl back to the hovel you call a home, Seraphim.” Amarantha added a smile for effect, “maybe you should _fly_ there like the barbarians you descend from.” A low blow, but there was no change in Seraphim’s face, who merely stared back.

“We’ll be watching.”

And then she was gone in shadows and smoke.

Amarantha stared at the spot where Seraphim had been for a few seconds before deciding she did not wish to have a ball that night. No, she wanted to spend the hours in her rooms, busy and awake.

No, perhaps she could never have what she wanted, for Seraphim to be either dead or under her command, but she could certainly have the insufferable female’s older brother.


End file.
